Alphabetical Order
by Bittersweet Romanticide
Summary: For the Alphabet Challenge issued by A Rose for me-A Rose for you. 26 short little oneshots each with an alphabetical prompt. AAML/pokeshipping, with slight DAML/contestshipping
1. Animal

_Disclaimer: I don't own pokemon, nor the themes used here._

A Rose for me- A Rose for you is holding this little contest, and it looked like so much fun I just couldn't help it! It's gonna be a lot of fun to do, because I had a lot of fun doing this one!

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Animal

Misty popped a piece of chocolate in her mouth, humming under her breath some cheerful song about snowy weather. It was nice to be back with Ash, it always was, but it was nicer to have a break from him for five minutes. He was running outside, doing some kind of training with Pikachu. She did wonder if training with Pikachu in frozen _water _was a good idea, but when she brought it up he had stuck out his tongue and raced out without a goodbye.

And what _should _have been relaxing merely raised her worry.

"Brock, do you think it's a good idea to leave him out there with Pikachu? He's going to kill himself." She got to her knees and looked out the window behind her, trying to see through the light snowfall to wherever Ash might be, but the boy was nowhere to be found. "Brock! I can't even see him out there! Town isn't even a mile away! He's gonna be running around with Pikachu, and he'll wander into town, tick off an Officer Jenny and get himself thrown in jail! This is ridiculous!"

"Worried, Misty?" he asked offhandedly, flipping a page in his magazine.

"Worried?" she snorted. "Why would I be worried? He's saved the world a thousand times! And, I mean, sure he always had his friends there to bail him out and he's a train wreck on legs and he's completely insane and he's not able to walk three feet without something blowing up in his face and completely ruining whatever we were doing beforehand and getting sidetracked on this crazy mission to save a pokémon which we don't have to save but we do have to save it and it's so complicated and, dammit, Brock! What could he possibly be doing out there?"

Brock looked up and grinned. "Well, it is your birthday tomorrow."

"Yeah right," Misty snorted. "I already know what I'm getting for Christmas. It's a coupon for one day of Ash saying I'm right without arguing, same thing we always get each other."

She screamed and fell face first into the sofa, clutching a pillow to her head and continuing to scream into it, not noticing in the least when May walked in, stamping her pretty, in fashion sneakers to loosen the snow. The brunette glanced at the redhead, blinked twice, then shrugged and walked over to Brock, still debating in her mind whether or not she should ask. She had a feeling she was better off not knowing, but temptation proved itself too strong.

"What's wrong with Misty?" May whispered.

"Ash gave her a rose and _she _figured out it means he likes her."

"Very funny," she muttered. She snatched up her bags and stormed upstairs, face painted a bright red. "And Ash was right behind me! I ran into him coming out of a shop. He seemed awfully excited about whatever he bought. He kept telling himself to walk, so I think he's got something delicate. I don't know what, though, Goldenrod is such a great place to find _anything_. It's got to be the shopping capital of the world. Why weren't you out, Misty?"

The girl jerked her head up and began to scream at the far wall: "He can't get me something for my birthday! I didn't get him anything for _his_! This is all a part of a damned plot to ruin me! Ruin me! I'll look like the insensitive one when it's him! It's him! You all know it's him!"

May sighed, "I knew I didn't want to know," and then turned to race upstairs and dump her stuff on the bed.

Ash burst in a moment later, carrying a large box. He had a huge smile stuck on his face as he marched over to the girl, holding it out and declaring, "Misty, I know how you like water and stuff, and my mom's been saying that I should get you something nice because we're becoming adults and we're supposed to be nice to one another and get each other good, adult gifts." Brock snorted at that, burying his face in his magazine. "What's so funny?"

"Adult gifts," he snickered.

"What does…oh, oh…oh, _ew_!" Ash pulled a face. "Not like that, Brock! Anyway, Misty, so I was really thinking about the stuff you liked, and I realized something. You've got a lot of pokémon and everything, but they're pretty smart and you just have to feed them. You can't _really _take care of them. I remembered how much you liked taking care of Togepi and thought, well, maybe you'd want to play with this too! You could take care of it and help it grow and all that kind of motherly stuff that you seem to like doing."

She glared. "Did you adopt a baby, Ash?"

"No, I tried that but they wouldn't let me 'cuz I wasn't married," he sighed dejectedly. "And I also asked for a baby mermaid, because it's half fish, but they said they were out of those. So, I went to another cool store and I bought you this!"

He held out the box, which she could now hear was making a faint scratching sound, and she took it. Cautiously, she opened the box, using the lid as a shield in case some crazy pokémon Ash bought for three dollars, on sale for its rabid bloodlust of flesh, and peeked inside. There was a water turtle, about the size of her entire hand, crawling around in the box. It looked up at her with mild interest, then went about its business of escape from the box.

"You…you got me an animal," she said slowly, eyes widening with wonder. She looked up at him, breath catching. He was beaming like he had just caught a new species to add to his pokedex, and she was also speechless. Almost. "These things are practically extinct. Pokémon…pokémon have all but pushed animals out of existence. How much did this _cost_, Ash? I can't let you buy me this! I'll go halfsies with you! I-"

"No, it's not that big of a deal. I'm a lot better of a trainer now. I've got a lot of cash. It's no big deal to spend some of it. What's the point of saving it all up if you don't spend it." He plopped down beside her. "Besides, you haven't seen the best of it. I've got the tank and stuff down at the store! I'm gonna run and get it, and we can set it up! Isn't that cool?"

"Oh, wow, Ash," she whispered, running her hand over the shell. "But I didn't get you anything great this year."

"S'all right," he laughed, making his way to the door. "You can buy me a dog next year!"


	2. Blonde

Blonde

Ash grinned at the girl, who, in the middle of winter, was wearing a hat. This was strange because Misty didn't get cold, and certainly not in a simple Cerulean winter. It was chilly, of course, and cold enough for snow to be on the ground, but not freezing by any means. She wore shorts, she wore a very light winter jacket, a raincoat of sorts, and a heavy woolen hat that hid every last strand of her hair. He would have made a brief comment about it, then let it drop, if not for her constant anxious yanking of it, pulling it down as far as it would go.

So, he tapped the ball on top, smirking. "What's the hat for? You get a bad haircut?"

"No!" she snapped. "It's cold outside. Don't be a jerk!"

"Oh-ho!" he laughed. "Seems like you're pretty anxious over a little hat. There's gotta be something creepy under that hat. Why don't you take it off, Misty? It's not that cold. Just for a minute to prove it. If you don't, I might have to yank it off." He leaned forward and tapped the little ball once more. "Wouldn't want me to do that, would you?"

"You wouldn't dare," she hissed.

Unexpectedly, he reached forward and yanked it off, laughing to himself as he raced off. Shockingly, he didn't hear crunching footstep behind him, and spun. His mouth dropped open at the sight of Misty shielding her shoulder length hair as best she could from his sight. It was blonde. Blonde as blonde could be. It was as golden as Daisy's, three toned highlights giving that depth and volume so many girls searched for in a good dye job.

"Misty, _what did you do to your hair_?" He gaped, walking closer.

He touched it gently, and she closed her eyes, face cringing up as he did. She caught his hand as he went to touch it again, not for any romantic reason, but as if touching it would somehow restore it to its natural red color and cure the terrible case of the hebee jeebes. Whoever did the dye job made a wonderful effort, he couldn't find a single strand of red hair anywhere of her now blonde head. She, apparently, was not nearly as pleased with this no matter how good of a job they had done.

"Daisy did it," Misty muttered. "I said something that wasn't too nice and…well, it's complicated."

"What'd she do? Tie you down?"

"No, she slipped a sleeping pill into my dinner."

Ash's eyes widened and his hand dropped to his side. "The more I hear about your family, the more I start to think you actually turned out creepily normal. But, uh, how long is it going to take for this to come out?"

"What?" She flipped the hair about. "You don't like it? You don't think it's pretty? I thought all men loved blondes, something about them being more fun."

He cleared his throat nervously. "Misty, I like whatever you like. It's your hair and your body and whatever you want to do with it is fine with me. No matter what color it is, I always think you're pretty. Yup…very pretty. I think it's wrong what Daisy did because she shouldn't force you to do anything you don't want to, but if you like your hair the way it is you should keep it that way. Whatever you like! Anything you like!"

She grinned. "I whipped you good and we're not even dating." She paused and wiggled back and forth in her spot. "Well, be honest, which do you like better? Red or blonde?"

"Me? I, uh…" he gulped and flushed. "I've always been a fan of redheads."

She giggled as he ran away, and she gave a little flip of her blonde hair. She held it up to her face and shook her head with yet another laugh. It hadn't been the best day, waking up in the morning to find her once red hair had turned blonde. It wasn't nice when all her sisters had giggled and made fun of her, and it was sweaty and hot and unpleasant thanks to her heavy wool hat. But, still, she giggled. Because, perhaps, being blonde wasn't so bad after all…especially when it made you realize how much a certain boy liked your original hair.


	3. Cap

Cap

The first time she wore his hat, she had snatched it from him in a childish rage. Knowing it was his prized possession, she had scampered off with it, shoved it on her head, and threatened to keep it forever if he didn't admit she was right. The next few times were quite the same, except there would always be a different threat, a different location or Ash would ignore her, kick her in the shin, and run off with his hat. She was always grumpy after the latter, and hobbled to an adult as fast as she could to tell on him.

The next few times she wore his hat, it was for comedic effect. The tired boy, at the end of the day, would take of his jacket and hat, toss it on her as if she was the rack, then topple forward onto the sofa and pretend to snore. She would quickly race across the room then, lips tilted up in a smile, and proceed to wrestle with him. She would too often win, but every once in a while she would get chucked off the sofa, smacked with a pillow, and abandoned as the boy ran off to hide.

Recently, it was for sweetness.

They met at midnight, Ash waking her up because he had a nightmare he needed to talk about. She rubbed her eyes and yawned and asked him what was wrong. The nightmare wasn't anything too terrifying, it was tied into a tragedy he had when he was young, something about some distant member of his family getting killed by something, Misty couldn't quite remember what, and she calmly consoled him until his panic subsided. She rubbed his shoulder and began her traditional, soothing rant of how it would all be okay, it was only a dream, and nothing bad would happen to him on her watch. She would beat that creature to death with all her might.

He had hugged her, tight and nervous as he filled her in on the tale again. It was his uncle, an uncle on his father's side that had taken him to the zoo, and said uncle had been eaten by an anaconda. He was an animal trainer, and the snake, apparently, had not been fed as he had been told. The hungry snake had crushed him when he picked it up, and Ash had cried at seeing his uncle's eyes bulge out of his head. The sight still haunted his dreams, as well as the terrible feeling it must have been to be crushed to death.

She had smiled and told him to buck up, gave him yet another speech about how wonderful it was to be alive, how his uncle would want him to keep on living. Ash had agreed, and she had even got a brief laugh out of him when she snatched the hat off his head. She picked up his vest from the ground, and a moment later she was dressed up just like him, Pikachu on her shoulder and hands in a V for victory pose.

"You're right, Misty! Nothing can go wrong!" she had cried in her best impression of his voice. "As the world's greatest Pokémon Master, what could get me?"

She tossed him his jacket, but clutched the hat to her head, stuck out her tongue, and insisted he wouldn't get his cap back.


	4. Diary

Diary

Ash Ketchum was as quiet as a mouse as he snuck into Misty's bag, rattling around. It was pitch black in the room, Brock was sleeping; Misty was sleeping, as was Togepi. Pikachu was on Ash's shoulder, occasionally giving his clothed shoulder an ineffective scratch. Ash completely ignored his rat and dug deeper into the bag. He almost squealed (but refrained himself) when he pulled out a small leather book and shook it at his rat.

"And you said she wouldn't have one! I knew she'd have a diary! She's a girl, isn't she? What kind of girl doesn't have a diary?"

(_Oh, Misty, how could you?_) Pikachu sighed, though the message skimmed over Ash's head as the boy flipped open the book. Excitedly, the mouse glared through the darkness and noted that this did _not _look like typical human writing. It was strangely formatted, with dashes and random capitals. (_What's that, Ash?_)

"It's her diary," Ash mumbled. "At least, I _think _it's her diary. I can't tell. It's weird looking. I mean, it's got a date at the top. Yup, she's been writing in it about every day. That's weird, 'cuz I didn't see her writing in it until last week. How could she be hiding it from us? I bet she's just doing it to mess with me. She probably wants to catch me so she can yell at me. She shouldn't yell at me so often, half the time it's not my fault."

(_Oh, of course she shouldn't yell at you for sneaking into her bag and trying to read what you thought was her diary. After all, that's perfectly justified. You're Ash Ketchum. You can do whatever you want! Damn what the world thinks, you can invade whoever's privacy you feel like! Go ahead and tell Misty that. I'm sure she'll let you off the hook. She doesn't have a _temper _or anything like that._) Pikachu bumped her head against his lightly. (_Are you even listening?)_

He wasn't. His breath caught in his throat because a hand had latched onto his shoulder, little nails digging into his skin, and then proceeded to lead him outside into the hallway and the bright light. It was, indeed, the redhead who wrote the diary Ash was now holding. She took the thing and slammed him over the head with it, again and again until he was down on the floor and trying to shield himself with his arms to spare himself a little more harm.

"I told you not to read it, and what do you do? You _read _it!" she hissed, struggling her hardest to keep her voice down. The last thing she needed was Nurse Joy running down the hallway to ask them what was going on. "How could you do that to me, Ash? Friends don't do this to friends!"

"I can't read it anyway!" he argued. "And I wasn't going to read it, not really. I was just gonna look and then I was going to keep it to blackmail you with! That's all!"

"Can't read it, huh?" She gave a snort as she ran her fingers over the binding. "I would've guessed not. You're not cultured enough to figure out what this is. Meanwhile, I was educated and paid attention to all the stuff my sisters were doing and I learned a few tricks to get through the day. Plus, it keeps stupid boys and stupid sisters from reading whatever I think about them. They're not clever enough."

"I know what it _is_," Ash snapped. "My mom reads that kind of stuff. It's Dickenson. Poetry."

The girl stiffened, face tinting red and she clutched the diary closer to her chest. "Is not!"

"I get why you'd write it like Dickinson," Ash continued. "It takes a long time to do and edit, because you have to be exact with the lines and the number of syllables and slant rhyming is a lot harder than regular rhyme, at least that's what my mom said. She tried to explain slant rhyming to me but I didn't get it because they didn't sound right at all. I can write real good limericks, though. Those are easy. They're short and not all metaphorical, unlike the poems you're doing."

She slapped him with the book again. "You won't tell _anyone _about this! I'm not writing poetry! And I'm not writing a diary!"

He grinned up at her. "Alright, but you have to pay for my dinner tomorrow night. You've got to treat Brock to, and pay for yourself. No tricking me out of this one either! And you've got to write a poem about me n' Brock, because half of them were about some guy named Catch, and it's not cool to write about some other guy when you don't bother writing about me and Brock. And when you finish writing about us, you have to give us the poem."

She winced. "Brock had to see it too?"

"He won't care," Ash giggled. "You know he won't care, but that's the deal! He's got to see it too!"

She chucked her diary at his still laughing head, then reconsidered. She swiped it up and raced back inside, swiftly locking Ash out of the room, leaving him to sleep outside (it was a strict rule by now not to wake Brock lest you wished to face the Wrath of Brock) with Pikachu cuddling up to Misty. And Ash, utterly alone and bored, brought out his pokedex and played Who's That Pokémon? until sleep finally came.


	5. Everything

Everything

Ash closed his eyes and rammed his head into the wall. It was perfectly illogical to imagine that everything was against him, it had to be that teenage angst thing that his mom kept telling him about it. That would explain the head ramming, the whole angst deal, but sometimes he did feel like the fates were against him. Well, maybe they were for him, and some kind of future child that was supposed to continue his legacy and save the world. He could see that happening. Weirder things had happened.

"Ash?" Dawn chirped, "Come on! There's a big winter solstice celebration downstairs! You've got to come on! You're gonna miss the big kiss at sunset!"

He moaned at that and rammed his head into the wall. "Oh, _Mew_, the kiss! Don't remind me about the kiss! _Everything _is against me today, Dawn, _everything_! From the moment I woke up today everything's been red! Red! I can't go anywhere without seeing it! Why? Because red's the color of the solstice! But that's not bad enough, oh no, we're in a city by a lake! So, not only do they celebrate the winter solstice, but they celebrate the _water _that never freezes on this day too! Sure, it just so _happens _that the two happened at the same time this year, but it doesn't change the fact that they did!"

"…Curse those red-loving, water-worshipping freaks?" Dawn said slowly, her voice twisting up to make the statement sound like a question.

"Yes!" he shouted. "How can everyone be against me! To make it all worse there's girls everywhere dying their hair _red_! _Why? _Dawn, it's like everything is out to get me! There's not a thing you can say that can't make me think of her! I don't want to think of her! I don't! I don't like her, Dawn! Everyone's been trying to convince me that I do, but I don't! I don't and it's not my fault that I see her everywhere. It's not on purpose. It's the hormones."

Dawn grinned wickedly. "It's a _girl_?"

His eyes shot open, realizing exactly _who_ he was talking to. This wasn't sweet little May that he could tell anything too. This wasn't Brock, who had gotten so used to his denial that he just ignored it and tried to solve the problem. No. This was Dawn. This was like someone had thrown a Sensational Sister in the washer and dryer with a bucket of bleach, then colored her in blue. She was the girliest girl on the face of the planet, with a thick streak of evil running through her.

"No! It's not a girl! Girl is a metaphor! It's a metaphor for pokémon! I don't like girls! They're disgusting! You're disgusting!" And, instinctively, he twisted and looked around the small room. "_Pikachu! _Thunderbolt 'em!"

"Oh, quiet," Dawn laughed, snatching up his hand. "Ignore the red, ignore the water, and I promise you there won't be a single thing at that party that'll remind you of whoever this mystery girl is. If there's anything that reminds you of the horrors of today or that redheaded girl you like, you can run upstairs."

They were halfway down the grand stairs when the music floated up.

"'_Cuz you're everywhere to me! And when I close my eyes it's you I see! You're everything I know that makes me believe I'm not alone! I'm not alone…_"

At this point, Ash promptly shoved his hands in his pockets, turned around, and stormed upstairs to wallow in self pity.


	6. Fire

Fire

They sat across from each other, flames flickering between them. How long had they been glaring? For a long time now, it had to be. After all, the second that fire had lit, so had their tempers. It was that lighting of the fire, the fire Misty knew couldn't be lit and the fire Ash had created with a infuriated Charizard that had sparked it. Oh yes, each one was wrong and right, all depending on whether a pokémon, in certain circumstances, could be thought of as a tool (and therefore signifying Ash had done it himself) or an independent creature equivalent to a human.

Ash was torn, of course, as now he was accused of thinking of his pokémon as tools. There was no way for him to win, no surefire way to lose. Neither option was a pretty one, so it ended up with a stalemate, Misty wouldn't talk until Ash had his turn to answer, and Ash had absolutely no idea what to say. So they sat, and they glared, and they fumed over the crackling fire long after Brock had gone to bed. Their eye contact broke only once, when Ash strode off to gather another log to chuck on the fire.

He sat; she sat. He leaned back; she leaned back. He made a snappy comment about him copying her, and, to annoy him, she mocked his snappy comment with one of her own, demanding that he stop mocking her. Things escalated, and soon they were screaming at one another, waking up Brock and the forest as the anger mounted, fire raging as they stomped, kicking wet leaves into the flames and sending a blanket of smoke all around.

It was the smoke that choked them, the smoke that made up the words in the air. Oh yes, the smoke was there, but it wasn't the real danger. The danger was the fire hidden underneath. The danger was that roaring flame. And it was obvious it was there, right _there _staring them smack in the face. Brock could see it plain as day, but they pretended it wasn't there. They would deny it's existence, but argue about how that fire started, through a tool to get you from place to place, or a pokémon that needed serious help.

The tempers rose and rose, each one shaking with anger. Seven years of smoke, seven years of gunk swirling into lungs that choked and smothered to the point where one of them, surely one of them had to cough. They were holding it back, holding it in, but the smoke was deadly thick. They had to stop kicking to banish the smoke. They had to stop screaming.

Then Ash coughed. Fuming and raging he screamed, "Of course I care about you, dammit! When did I ever say I didn't? I love you, you fricken idiot!"

She swallowed thickly and whispered. "Do not."

Ash stood, staring, and almost feeling his hopes rise. The winds had changed, and all the smoke had swept in Misty's direction. He could see the fire clear as day. He could see the girl stuck inside the gray gas, and, eagerly, he began to kick leaves onto the smoldering logs. A moment before he had been there, and if there was one thing he had learned from all his time in that fire, it was that, sooner or later…she was going to have to cough.


	7. Girl

Girl

For years and years she was called a tomboy. From the very first moment she clutched a pokeball and refused to let it go, to the moment she first punched her sisters instead of slapped or scratched, to the moment, she woofed at a football game instead of screamed alongside the girls, it had been fully stamped onto her forehead: tomboy. She not only accepted this label, but welcomed it with open arms. She was no more ashamed of this than she would if someone called her white, if someone called her a redhead, merely because she was what she was and she was quite content to never change it.

She was dating Ash at the time, the two laying on the sofa, listening to some kind of holiday movie while the snow fell outside. It was nice and warm where she was, though. One of his arms draped around her waist, while the other had undone her hair and began to play with it gently, running his fingers through it, occasionally brushing her ear and sending a warm shiver down her spine. It had been a nice, romantic night, all leading up to a light make out session to collapsing on the couch in the position they were now.

"Ash?" she whispered quietly. "You ever wish I was girlier?"

"Hmm?" he asked, hand barely hesitating in its travel through her red locks. "Did I ever wish what?"

She sighed and turned to him, staring at his chest instead of his eyes. "Ash, did you ever…have you ever wished I was girlier? Have you ever wished I was the kind of girl who wears make-up or wears dresses or do her nails or gushes about how masculine you are?"

"There's a girl who gushes about how masculine I am?" Ash said, eyes widening.

"No, Ash, there's not a girl on the planet who thinks you're masculine." She jabbed him playfully in the chest. "But would you like it if I pretended I thought you were masculine. Do you want me to act like girls are supposed to act, all feminine and cheerful and airheaded and stuff. With breast implants."

"If you want breast implants, cool. I've got no problems with those," he agreed. "But your personality's fine, Mist. If I got a girly girl I couldn't have any fun. You go on adventures with me. We walk through the woods and I don't have to spend all my time making sure you don't kill yourself. How can I have fun if whoever I'm with needs my help to step over a mud puddle? If I wanted you to be someone else, don't you think I'd just go to someone else?"

"Well, you are a _trainer_. Once would think you would try to _train _people as well as pokémon." She smiled a bit, confidence boosted. "So, you're really one of those rare boys who doesn't want a porcelain doll as a girlfriend?"

He laughed. "I don't play with dolls. Come on, tomboy, you're missing the movie."


	8. Heaven

Heaven

"Alright, Misty, today we're gonna face the fear," Ash whispered, giving her shoulders a quick squeeze. "I believe you can do it. It's not that hard. We're not even starting with the big ones! It's the little ones. It's the ones that get eaten by _everything_. It's not poisonous. It doesn't bite. It's well fed. There is absolutely _nothing _for you to be afraid of. I'm right here, so is Pikachu and Azumaril. None of us are going to let anything happen to you. And if something does try to hurt you, I'll yank you out so fast you'll see stars."

She whimpered and shook her head wildly. "I changed my mind; I don't want to face my fears anymore. It's a stupid idea! A little bit of fear never hurt anyone! I love my fear! It makes me who I am! Why should I change who I am? I love me for me."

"It's just a bug, Mist," he laughed lightly.

"It's a _cockroach_!" She moaned and her legs gave out beneath her, leaving Ash to stifle his giggling as he boosted her back up. "I can't touch it, Ash! It's dis_gust_ing! Look at it! And it _hisses_, Ash! Oh, dear _Mew _it hisses! Of all the slimy, disgusting things in the entire world you had to find these! Oh, Ash! Just let me go! I change my mind! I changed it! I changed it! I wanna go home this was so, so stupid. Oh, _Ho-oh! _What was I thinking?"

He gave her a light shake with a grin. "You thought you were going to get over the irrational fear you have that does nothing but hinder your life."

"You mean like your thing with snakes?"

"Shut up. It's nothing like that. My fear is not irrational. I don't scream and run and, most recently, _faint _whenever a bug gets too close."

"It was a damn _Vespiquen!_ Of all the horrible bug pokémon of the world, it was the biggest, ugliest, nastiest, angriest of them all! She tried to _eat _me!" Misty moaned and tried to back away, but was met with only the solidity of Ash's body, which pushed her forward and closer to the tank once more. "Ash, I can't do this. I know you think I can but I don't know why everyone thinks that I'm so brave it's just because nothing's really all that scary but when I'm face with something scary I'm not brave at all."

"Oh? Nothing scary? What about the time Brock almost got eaten by the ghost and we had to drag him back and face down that ghastly? Or how about all those times you had to throw yourself off a cliff or into water to save a pokémon or me or your friends?"

"Well, that's because it's saving someone. I mean, it's for you. I can't think about being scared when it's for someone else. I would dive into a pit of these nasty things to save you or Brock or anyone I care about."

"Then do this for me."

"Of all the corny things, Ash!" she cried, swiveling to face him. "How about you? What do you do when you're scared of something? Count to ten, take slow, deep breaths? I know you couldn't do something simple, like, oh, dive right into danger because you want to take care of your friends and family like I do. Oh, no. You must do something because you're not brave or forget whenever there's a touch of danger around as long as there's someone to be saved."

"I get through it," he said slowly, "because I've always had people there to back me up."

He slowly wrapped his arms around hers, pulling her into him and acting completely oblivious when her breath caught. She was in shock, she realized, because she couldn't move, couldn't think about a single thing other than how warm he was and how strange it was that he felt so much different than her sisters when she was trapped in their bear hugs. They were soft and curvy, whereas he was a solid, sturdy kind of fit behind her. It felt nice. Why had she stopped hugging him? There's was something about it being awkward and they were too grown up for her to be clinging to him, but right now she wasn't so sure.

She jumped suddenly, because there was a _bug _in her _hand _and it was _hissing_, the weird little demon. She began to whimper and fidget, but his grip only tightened.

His warm breath was too close when he said quietly, "It's alright, Misty. I'm right here. I'm right here with you," in a horribly cracking voice. If she had turned her head, she would have seen his face completely flushed as he realized what he was doing. If she had pressed tighter, she would have felt his heart racing. She couldn't have felt that his stomach seemed to clench with every move she made, that he was trying his best to think of bugs and snakes and Harley to keep himself from spinning her around and slamming her lips onto his.

Misty was holding a bug, and Ash was in a painful fit of hormones, yet somehow they were both in heaven.


	9. Idiosyncrasy

Idiosyncrasy

Ash had a lot of weird habits, habits he rarely showed.

There were a few he couldn't hide, such as almost _never _taking his gloves off. It was simply bizarre…simply fascinating. And, even with her, he rarely took them off. When his fingers roamed, he never bothered to remove them. Cloth covered hands held her close, caressed her cheek. She had seen them before. There was no bump of scars, no deformity, but soft, smooth skin tossed between the strangely calloused palms when the fabric rubbed and toughened up the skin.

He didn't know, at least, she doubted he did, how she was desperately curious about what could possibly under his gloves that he didn't think was okay to touch her with. He didn't know how her mind simply wrapped around the strange habit of keeping those gloves on and refused to let go. Whereas some girls would be content to spend hours thinking about their boyfriend's smile or muscular body or the cute way he laughed, she gawked at her ceiling and tried not to scream her frustration about how those gloves could possibly always, _always _stay on, except around water! He had to take them off sometimes! How could he be that damn comfortable in gloves?

She went slightly crazy one day, snatching him away from his friends and pulling him up to her room. The door slammed, and they ignored the wolf whistles and cat calls coming form downstairs. Instead, Misty tossed him to her bed and jumped on top of him, and they boy went from surprised to turned on faster than she had ever scene him go. Granted, she had just wanted to pin him so she could yell at him for wearing his freaking gloves, but as his tongue flicked inside her mouth she couldn't exactly remember what she had been pinning him for.

Meanwhile, Ash was enjoying the sexiest surprise he had ever gotten, in fact, the only sexy surprise he had ever had. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, wondering how far he was going to get this time. He hoped he was going to get to touch some fun parts he didn't have. He liked the fun parts, especially the two upstairs he had often seen through the fabric of a bathing suit but never touched.

He made his attempt, hand skimming under her shirt when suddenly she yanked away, beaming. One finger was up in the air and she burst through heavy breaths, "That's it! That's what I was trying to tell you! Ash, you…how far did you think you were getting that I'm feeling something poke into my thigh?"

He flushed and covered his face. "Just take it as a compliment, _please_."

"It feels kinda small," she taunted.

He yanked his hands away and sat up quickly, glaring. "Now _that's _uncool. I've never called your boobs small and we both know that they're no prizes. May's got a huge pair of knockers but I don't compare them to yours because…" He caught sight of her furious eyes. "I love you?"

"Keep that up and you'll never get to find out how big they really are," she snarled. Then, paused and shifted uncomfortably. "She wears padded push-ups. Anyway, I wanted to ask you what the freaky thing is that you have with gloves. You never take them off! And it…it's weird that you can wear them when you're kissing me! Nobody doesn't that, it's not romantic at all. You should take them off to kiss me."

He shrugged and pulled them off, revealing tan lined hands, and placed them on her waist. In a second, she recoiled, and shook her head furiously.

"Never mind. I feel like I'm being touched by a stranger. Put the gloves on." She pushed him down harder and smiled. "Besides, I guess it could be sexy, you know. Since you're a trainer and all. I've heard that women have their husbands wear their uniforms to bed and other stuff like that. So this could be…wait, before I get off track and we start kissing, could you at least tell me why you always wear those gloves?"

He shrugged. "They're comfy. Can we kiss now?"

She bit her lip. "Huh, now that we've taken the mystery out of it, it's not nearly as sexy anymore. Maybe the only reason I was attracted to you in the first place was because you were so mysterious. No I'm not turned on at all. I guess it's time to end it Ash, go our separate ways and move on with our lives."

Ash pushed his lips to hers, sure to take the time to tug at her bottom lip before kissing along her jaw line and neck, smiling when he heard her whisper, "Think you can feel size good enough through those gloves?"


	10. Jumble

Jumble

Misty felt a tad guilty as they sat around the table, fixing the puzzle she had just destroyed. It had a Pikachu on it, and Ash had apparently been working on it for a month. It wasn't the most tragic thing she had done. He'd been hurt by her, emotionally and physically, many times before. This was different though, and she knew it, because he had spent plenty of time working on this thousand piece puzzle, rolling it up in felt to keep it safe on the road before unrolling it and spending a little time on it every night to fix. And, almost done, she had simply thrown a tantrum during their argument and destroyed it.

"I'm sorry I wrecked your puzzle, Ash," she murmured. "That was wrong of me. I shouldn't have done that."

"No, but I shouldn't have said that either," he granted, putting a blue piece to finish the edge. Perhaps that was the most challenging part of the puzzle. It was the one with no straight edge, all the pieces around the side looking as if they could find something else to connect to. On top of that, the background was nothing but clear blue. Every piece had to be glared at and tried with every other piece, guess and check the only sure way to find one that fit.

"That _was _wrong," she agreed. "I can't believe you had something that mean inside you, Ketchum. Not only was it cruel to say to anyone, but you knew _exactly _how different it was to say it to me, given my history. You knew how much it would hurt. You were conscious of what you were doing yet you _still _cut my stomach open and left me to die with the stomach acid leaking inside me and dissolving me from the inside out. Er, metaphorically, I mean."

"I know what you mean, but…you're just so frustrating, Misty! Every time I see you my emotions get all mixed up and weird and I don't know what's going on. Half the time I just want to hit you and chase you away or say the meanest thing I can just so you'll just _shut up _for a little bit, and half of the half of the time I think we're really good friends and I can talk to you about anything. I think you're my best friend, those times, and then there's the other times when…you just get my emotions all jumbled up."

"Jumbled up like the puzzle," she whispered quietly, pushing Pikachu's eye into place. They were nearly done now, the afternoon wasted away in silence on this precious some assembly required picture, just a few pieces left. "Once again, Ash, I'm sorry I jumbled up your…your puzzle."

He grunted an apology accepted kind of grunt, and picked up another piece to push into place. Pikachu's nose. Just two more pieces to push in and he'd be all done. The next one was easy, the bit of black could only be the tip of the mouse's ear, and the last one was easier still. It was a solid yellow piece, the only hole left in the puzzle and he knew exactly where it went. He grabbed it, and his heart leapt in his chest.

…Not just because he was almost done with the puzzle, but because Misty's hand had closed over his, gently putting his over the puzzle, and helping him push the piece into place.

"Even though I jumbled it up, I bet…if you'd let me, I could fix it up too."

Their hands pulled away, and they looked at the piece they had pushed in together: a small, yellow spot on its torso. There was no special markings or anything that might signify it as special, and, in fact, unless you could somehow x-ray the picture pikachu, there was no way to be sure what this piece was.

For, it was right on its chest, a bit on the left. One would be forced to assume that _this_ was where its heart sat.

* * *

Well, I've just come to realize after this that there are a few things I want to clear up, for my own sake, so people don't think I have no life and merely sit at home, curled up in a ball with seventeen cats, writing pokemon fanfiction and dreaming of one day finding love because I update very, very quickly.  
1. This is my stress reliever, not my life. Some people knit, some people talk, I read and write. This is how I released my emotions, so, ta da!  
2. I have a life. Why, just last night I celebrated my birthday and sang half my own birthday song before they brought in the cake (thought process: Gees, I came over for a quiet evening and look! Why did they invite us over to celebrate someone's birthday? Oh my goodness, it's _my _birthday, isn't it?).  
3. I'm not obsessed with teenage hormones because I do not have a boyfriend, you see, I do not want one. I have a _huge _fear of commitment to anything that doesn't walk on four legs, plus I'm more interested in getting an education and a career than a man right now. I'm quite logical when it comes to these things.

So, I'm sure nobody really needed to know this, and no one was thinking it, but, just in case anyone was...there it is. And my most proud like in this was "some assembly required picture". If you didn't see it, you should definitely re-read it and appreciate it, because it's marvelous.-nods-


	11. Kingdom Hearts

Kingdom Hearts (a video game which I don't own, not the copyright nor the game itself)

"So the key…is shaped like a heart?" Misty asked slowly.

Ash nodded. "Yup."

"And you beat people up?"

"Yup."

"With a key that's shaped like a heart?"

"Yup."

"And you don't find that a bit…ironic?"

"Nope."

"But you smacking someone with a key shaped like a heart, like the key to your heart, against someone who is heartless, to completely destroy them. You are quite literally using an instrument that has been used in thousands of cultures to signify love, probably because your heart beats faster in your chest when you're in love with someone, to completely beat up and destroy a creature that has no heart to speak of. So, not only are you killing with a thing made to love, you're killing something with something that it doesn't have. That's cruel."

"It's a video game."

"But it's so terrible!"

"You're _really_ over thinking this, Mist."

"But why not over think? It has to be better than under thinking, right? If you think too much it's better than not thinking at all because if you think too much at least you come to some interesting conclusions to talk about, whereas if you don't think at all you sit down to your game system and turn around a horribly ironic game without pausing a moment to realize the horrible irony that it is inflicting upon the world, that nobody stops to think about but if you want a little _yaoi _to make it through the gauntlet of other countries that's just _wrong. _Oh _no, _we can't have the original series because there are times when it has the equivalent of soft core porn."

"Yeah…I don't think I really want to hear this. Could you go and finish your rant in the bathroom or something and come back when you're done? I'm starting to feel kinda guilty now. They're not even real! They're imaginary!"

"Poor things, why can't you _give _them a heart? That should be it! You give them a heart when you smack them with the key! Wouldn't that be nice? I feel so bad for the poor little heartless! And then you have to wonder, do they have souls? Do they have some kind of afterlife or is this just the end for them? Do they have to be killed or can they die of old age? It's all so complicated. I don't know how you can't think of all this stuff."

"Because I'm normal!" he moaned and paused the game, tossing his controller to the ground before turning and glaring at her. "Misty, I can't change the game. I'm sorry, but I can't make if so you can smack someone and suddenly give them a heart! Gees, you make it sound like cupid where ya have to get shot in the butt to get one! Why has it become such a trend that violence means love! I mean, it's not like because you get into a fight with someone you're in love with…them…"

The two gulped and gawked, trying to ignore their reddening faces.

She insisted, voice squeaking, "You kill those stupid heartless, Ash!"


	12. Lust

Lust

It was quite amazing that, despite the obvious affection the two had for one another, that there was absolutely no lust between them. Then again, when you're ten, lust isn't exactly easy for them to come by. There were no teenage hormones, and though Misty was a year older, she wasn't in puberty anymore than he was. Neither of them had any kind of need to jump each other in the closest. And, though every once in a while Misty could have a romantic daydream about the two of them holding hands and walking down a country lane, there was never any kind of kissing involved.

There was simply no _want _to kiss, and any desire to do so merely came from the pressure of Misty's older sisters, the pressure of Brock, and the taunt that you were never really grown up until you kissed or had a boyfriend or a girlfriend or some kind of romantic interest. As everyone obviously knew, no one was worth squat unless they had a romantic interest. Whenever children first hear about Einstein, the first thing they want to know is how hot and buff he was and what his wife's name was. After that, they can move onto their children and their romantic life, but the wife needs to be covered first. She is amazingly important.

Nope, not a single thing could ever change that friendships. Times changed, the two hit their teens and bodies started to change, but there was still no _lust _involved. Perhaps, every once in a while, Misty's daydreams would end in a kiss and even go as far to have a little bit of a make out scene, and Ash would occasionally think of what it would be like to kiss a girl, but then immediately compare it to the taste of food and walk into a tree while daydreaming of strawberries and hamburgers. Still, nothing ever venture beyond that, and they were quite content to be as they were, with their slight crushes and romance.

Older now, they met up once more. Misty was fifteen, Ash was fourteen. Still, though Misty's day dreams always ended in a kiss and frequently had some making out, the line still had not been crossed from child like love to the hot, disgusting throws of the teenage years and lust.

As any sensible person knows, the teenage years are a completely pointless time of life. Much like school, it's only prep for the rest of your life where you learn a few necessary tools for living (though most are wastes of time and a big load of crap) before you're booted out to the cold cruel world. Neither of them were amazingly attractive. Luckily, neither had been cursed with acne thanks to a pollution free society of solar power and futuristic miracles, but they were still awkward. Misty was as tall as her sisters and awkward in her body that had grown too fast. Ash had come up to Brock's chin and was still growing. Neither had filled out completely, and they still ate more than ever thought humanly possible as metabolisms fought to keep up with the suddenly bigger bodies.

No, no lust occurred, for sure. And it wouldn't happen at this disgusting teenage time.

No, no, no. It surely would not. It couldn't! Nope, neither had any kind of erotic dreams, nor any prolonged glances at lips or eyes or chests, neither flirted or gave sort of strip teases with tight shirts, or no shirts, or tight pants, or no pants (thankfully, with boxers and never briefs). No, no, none of these things happened. Their relationship was purely innocent, filled with love and wondrous things.

There's nothing to see, perverted readers and watchers of shows, not in the anime, not in the manga, and certainly not in the uncut Japanese version.

Shame on you for thinking so.


	13. Mephisto

**BEWARE: I don't know how religious some of you are, but this involves a pact with the devil. If you don't like this sort of thing, I'm giving you the heads up now. Don't complain in the review, because I gave you the warning.**

Mephisto

Ash didn't know if this would work, oh, how much he didn't know about if it would work! What he was doing, spreading thick blood across his basement floor in a pentagram. Kneeling in front of it, and whispering words he shouldn't have known from a book he shouldn't have had, or even gone looking for. What he was doing was unforgivable, inexcusable, but wasn't that the kick in the religions these days? Forgiven. Always forgiven. So, maybe, somehow, he could be forgiven when all this was through. Maybe God, whether it was a man or a woman or hundreds of them all up there having a party, would take some mercy.

He would pray they'd take mercy, pray as hard as he was praying that the devil himself would appear to him, with his lover's soul clenched in his disgusting, satanic hands.

He didn't want to look, but his eyes caught the strange, reddish light shining up from the pentagram. He didn't want to hear, but there was a sound like flesh hitting the floor, not living flesh, but like someone had dropped a wet corpse onto the floor of the dark cement. He didn't want to smell the rotting flesh, but, _Mew,_ how he smelled it. The disgusting scent filled his nose and stung, making him want to gag. Yet his eyes glared into the pages, and he was stony faced. Not because he was too proud to look upon the face of evil, but because the great Ash Ketchum was terrified to do so.

"Well, Ketchum?" something sneered, and he cringed at the gravel like sound. He cringed not because it was horrible to hear. He cringed because there _was _something to hear. "Don't you want your precious lover? Don't you want to take her from me? She's right here!"

"She's not my girlfriend," Ash whispered weakly. "I don't love her."

"Not your girlfriend! Not your girlfriend!" the beastly voice cackled with glee. "Of all the crazy things I've heard! Who summons up Satan to save a _friend_, Ash? Who? Who! The Chosen One does! Oh yes, oh yes, the Chosen One, oh yes! He conjures up the devil's help to save his _friend_! Oh, Ash! She wants to know! Tell her you love her! Pucker up your lips and give her a kiss! Let her know, Ash! Let her know!"

"What did my family say, Ash?" Misty's voice asked. "When they found out I was dead, what did they do? Am I buried?"

"There wasn't a _body_," he moaned, as if the memory made him ill. "There was a pokémon, the guardian of _hell_. It…it took you. You were trying to save something that belonged to him. You were crying over…over your pokémon, and you said you'd give their soul instead of yours. You didn't know that…apparently, _it _was listening. I was the only one there when it took you. You screamed. Nobody heard you but you screamed and you screamed and you screamed and then…and then your damn pokémon was fine and you were gone. I never liked that thing."

The devil cried out merrily: "Tell her what you did then, Ash! Tell her!"

"I killed it," Ash spat. "It deserved it. The things it did was bad enough. It gave everyone the creeps, but we were trying to be nice to it. It was an evil creature, and that proved it. It let you go to hell and it didn't try to save you at all! It just let you die! And it couldn't…that wasn't fair. You didn't have to go."

"Neither do you, Ash," Misty said, voice getting frantic. "You don't have to do this!"

"Do too, Ash! Save your _friend_! Save her!"

Ash stood, and he faced his enemy. He couldn't help but smirk at the sight, as the devil had taken the form of Gary, Gary with an expression on the devil could conjure with brown eyes simmering with a raw hate Ash had only seen once before, reflected in his own eyes when he was in the bathroom, washing the blood of a dead creature off his hands. Ash stood, and he threw his hands out wide, laughing his own wild laugh.

"You want a soul! Take it you greedy bastard! Take what you want! But I get her back! I get her back every bit as perfect as she was last year! I get her back and it's like none of this ever happened! She ages! She has a normal life! It's like she was never in hell! And when she dies, when she _really _dies, you won't be able to touch her. There's no way she would be going to hell, and if it wasn't for this, I wouldn't be either. If there's a god…" Ash glared. "If there _is _a god, just like there's one of you, God will fix it."

The devil grinned, and it reached out a pale hand to Ash. And, it was at that moment Ash cheated. It was then that Ash released something he hadn't in years, the darkest side of him. For he never truly lost that other soul from that ancient king, the king that had possessed him near a battle tower; the king had stayed with him for all these years. The greedy man gleefully took over Ash's body, not realizing until it was too late that he was getting hot. Very hot. Hellish hot.

The king screamed. The devil screamed. And not knowing what was going on around her, Misty screamed, stumbling out of the pentagram with hands over her mouth. Something was wrong, something was horrible. She felt it. Deep in her boned everything felt _wrong._ But it was over as quick as it came. There was no flashing lights as the soul was stolen. Not a single thing appeared to be happening. Just screaming.

Then all the lights faded, and Ash was crumpled on the floor.

But this wasn't right, Misty knew it couldn't be. Ash had said! Ash had said there wasn't a corpse when she was taken so-

"Misty?" he moaned quietly. He turned, body shaken and weak from the switching of souls, and the effect of having one of those souls ripped from his body. But he smiled, smiled as big as he could to see her as perfect as promised, as the day she had vanished. And she had aged, no less! Perhaps it was because she had never died, but she certainly appeared to be two years older than him, just like always. He giggled. "How's that for stupid? I tricked the damn devil!"

She laughed breathlessly and ran to him, tackling him into the floor. A few seconds later, both the sounds of glee had turned to sounds of fear, and they clutched each other tight as they cried, doing their best to keep their eyes off the pentagram on the floor, doing their best to ignore the disgusting smell that hung in their nostrils. Misty did her best to banish the memories of hell from her mind, while Ash tried to hide from that snickering voice…

The snickering voice of Mephisto.

**

* * *

**Did you get chills?

Well, this was…weird. I don't know where this came from, but, I was faced with two choices: a shoe company or Satan. So I sat and thought, "Well, both are the incarnation of evil, so which one could I really have fun with?" And though I simply love shoes and shopping (what girl _doesn't, _asks you sexist bastards of the world) I just had to go with the devil.

But, it had a happy ending, so…hooray for happy endings! And as for people who may say this isn't romantic: if a guy saved a girl from hell _and _tricked the devil, that girl should have to say thank you the dirty way because they should already be naked. Not every action requires sex as a thank you, but, I'm sorry, that's one of the few things that I really think ought to qualify.


	14. Numb

Numb

"Do it," Ash insisted. "I will pay you thirty dollars to do it."

Misty rolled her eyes. "It's bad enough that it got so cold while we were out and I didn't bring a coat. I can't even feel my arms anymore! They're numb! But, to make it all worse, you want me to get stuck to the hunk of unfeeling icy metal so my tongue gets numb too? I will _not _lick that pole."

"That's not what your _mom _said last night."

"My mom is dead, Ash. Do you sleep with dead people?"

"Lick the pole Misty. It'll be hilarious."

"_No_, dammit, I'm not going to lick the pole!" She stomped her foot in the cold. "You're ridiculous, you know that? You're completely insane! I mean, I understand when you do pranks like putting salt in someone's sandwich, that's _funny_, but this? How is this funny or cool or _anything?_ It's just stupid, and, I'm sorry. I'm not dumb enough to lick the pole. Maybe you were when you were a kid, but I'm not. Girls are naturally more intelligent, I guess."

"Fifty bucks to lick the pole."

"_Why?_"

"Because I could take a picture and laugh for the rest of my life and it would only cost me fifty dollars." Ash beamed. "Fifty dollars for happiness, that's not a bad price. I promise once we get you off you can dare me to lick it and take a picture so you can laugh too. _And _you get the fifty dollars! This is a win-win situation."

"Then why don't you lick the pole first?" Misty asked, crossing her arms and leaning forward with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, now you're being crazy," Ash laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just do it!"

"I need a better reason than you're happiness."

"You don't want to make me happy?"

"Sure I do. It's just not a persuasive enough reason for me to lick a pole. You need a better one."

"It's erotic?"

"That a statement, or a question?" she taunted, swinging her hip at him.

"I dunno," Ash sighed. "No clue. I just think it'd be funny if you did and I needed a good laugh. Besides, Misty, I've got no idea what to do. I just…we've been, well, _dating _for a week now, and our dates all seem kind of dull. Everyone else seems to be doing all this fun stuff and all we're doing is…is _dating_! Nobody on TV is dating anymore. I mean, a week has passed and the best thing we've done is a quick peck on the lips! Shouldn't we be…" he blushed. "Shouldn't we be making out or something by now?"

"Oh, you want to make out, do you?" she said, voice dropping low and sexy.

She took his hand in hers, slowly peeling off his glove while singing to a sexy kind of beat, swaying her hips along with it. She smiled at his red face, his heavy gulp. Then, out of nowhere, she licked his palm and slammed it onto the pole, the water in her spit freezing and sticking him there, as she had built up quite a lot of saliva before attempting to do the crazy prank. She then pecked him on the lips, and walked off.

And poor, frozen Ash cried out behind her, "But _Misty! _Misty! My hand's going numb!"


	15. Only

_**Dedicated to anyone who was ever called a dork, and, let's face it: we're in the pokemon fandom. We've all been called dorks.**_

Only

Only one person (that she knew of) had ever found out.

Misty had a secret, a deep, dark dangerous secret that no one should have ever known. No one needed to find out, not now, not ever. The only one who knew the deep, dark, horrible secret was Ash. Ash could know because she was very close to the black haired boy, in fact, she had a crush on him and knew that he had a crush on her, sort of, but there were complicated things so they weren't friends, but they weren't dating, and she wasn't sure to call it.

Anyway, she was most certainly sure that no one could ever know such a horrible secret. In fact, _she _had been in denial of this horrible secret, for it was too horrible to comprehend. No, it couldn't be brought up, never be thought of! Her mind would go to a sad, dark place then. She couldn't go there. She was afraid to go there. So, she hid from it. But she couldn't hide from it when Ash noticed, and Ash brought it up.

"Misty, you're a dork."

She had frozen in the middle of what she was doing with her not-quite-boyfriend, which was singing a medley of TV theme songs into a hair brush while jumping up and down on a sofa and occasionally stepping onto the coffee table to sing and dance. Yes, in her flannel pajamas, doing some strange dances that her performing sisters would disown her for, hair in a sloppy mess and wearing light up socks, Misty was one hundred percent dork.

"I'm a _what_?" she yelped, faced turning a bright red. And then, to confirm her dorkdom, she slipped and fell on her butt on the coffee table, making her wince and rub the now tender spot.

"You're one of the biggest dorks I've ever met!" He laughed loud and long, trying to hide it by shoving his face into the pillows. "You know, you'd have to be or else you'd drive a guy insane. It's that completely dorky fun part of you that makes this all worthwhile." He chucked it at the blushing girl, still not noticing her embarrassment. "You should show that side more often. You'd have guys crawling all over themselves to get to you."

"Please, _me_?" She snorted and shook her head. "I'm not a dork, _you're _a dork."

"Yeah, we're both dorks," he chuckled. "That's why we get along so well."

She shook her head. "I'm collected."

He sat up and smirked. "You're a _mess_."

"I'm calm."

He stood. "You're filled with dorky rage."

"I'm smart," she argued, wondering why she was starting to feel so thrilled and why her heart was pounding in her chest.

"About things like _Digimon_," he sniggered, kneeling down in front of her.

"How often?" she asked.

"All the time."

"Only around you," she whispered, then smiled. "Only for you."

And he kissed her, both of them feeling like dorks when the hand he used to hold him up slipped, causing him to bang his head on the table, and when Misty laughed so hard she fell backwards and knocked the wind out of herself when she hit the floor.

She sighed from her spot when her breath came back. "You've discovered my only flaw, Ash."

He burst out laughing at that. "_Only_?"

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon.


	16. Precious

Precious

Misty's birthday was in the chilly month of January, winter time, and this was her fourteenth birthday. Here was the mess of the century laid out, wrappings thrown out but presents and boxes littering the floor. There were plenty of fancy things hiding in the rubble, she had music players that were too expensive for their own good, game systems, make-up, clothes, purses and accessories. Each item was overpriced, each item was sure worth its weight in gold. Every item was something her sisters would pine over, and Misty had thanked and they were quite proud of their presents, despite what happened.

Daisy sighed and sat down beside her. "When I was ten, mom and dad gave me, like, this huge birthday bash to celebrate the double digits thing. It was pretty cool, a little kid birthday party. We went to a movie, some little kid movie and we enjoyed it. Dad stayed home with you three so I got the whole day to myself. It was totally cool. We had a cake. I think it was marble cake. It was, like, some kind of swirl of chocolate and vanilla. It was totally one of the best cakes I've ever had.

"Well, we come back to the house that night and, like, did all the other present stuff. All my friends gave me the cute stuff, little kid make up and cards and cute little things, the stuff that you find in the sale rack in cheap stores because, like, you know they're going to ruin it in half an hour anyway. Then, once they had all left, Mom and Dad gave me all the, like, really, _really _cool stuff. You know the kind, the dollhouses and the pokedolls and the really nice stuff we get. Your special gifts were always pokémon stuff, but we got girly stuff.

"The best gift, though, oh," she sighed dreamily at the memory of it. "It was the little doll that's still upstairs. Oh, it's, like, totally adorable. She was just a rag doll Mom made in her spare time. She didn't have any hair, and she was just rubberband and fabric. I got much fancier dolls than that, the kind of dolls you're, like, not allowed to touch because they're so pretty. I got toys that any girl would dream of playing with. I got princess dresses and, you know what? That little rag doll was my favorite."

Misty looked up at her, blue-green eyes meeting their twins. "What's this all about Daisy?"

"I'm just feeling nostalgic, because Mom and Dad were talking. They were talking about how they had spent all that money, and all it would have take was, like, that one special gift for cheap and I would have been just as happy. I ignored, like, everything else. All I loved was that, like, cute little doll. To this day, I still can't remember all the really expensive stuff, but I can name every rag doll Mom ever made me, Lily, Violet and you."

"You're still not making any sense."

"Because, really, it's not what you get, but the thought put into it. It's, like, who gets it for you. We got you all this nice stuff, but I knew the second you walked in the door it wouldn't work. You, like, had already chosen the winner. I guess that's one of the reasons why we made this so big. We, like, didn't want to lose you or something."

"But, Daisy, I _love _the gifts!" Misty cried.

Daisy chuckled. "I know you do."

She looked inside the box and gently rubbed the back of the turtle, the turtle Misty had been cuddling and playing with ever since she had returned from her trip with Ash. It hadn't taken away from her other responsibilities, from the pokémon, but whenever she got the chance she raced to the creature's side, feeding it and loving it and taking care of it as if it was a priceless, _precious _diamond ring.

The blonde sighed, "I know."

**

* * *

**_**Dedicated to all those people who have turtles and can actually enjoy them, because mine seems to break the tradition of, "Oh! Turtles are warm and affectionate creatures!" and hisses and hates whenever it's looked at.**_

_**Inspired by getting a kitten for Christmas, which I'm picking up tomorrow. The kicker? I had to buy it. The present was getting the permission from my father to go and buy myself the present. Somehow, it's the thing that you never expect will give the most joy that thrills the gift getter the most.**_


	17. Question

Question

"How _old _are you?" Ash asked Misty suddenly, sitting up as they sat around the campfire. "I mean, I'm sixteen right now, and depending on your age and the region we're in, it's illegal for you to be all romantic with me. I mean, I understand and obviously they're not going to force us to break up. They don't really care and I'm sure it's not a big deal unless we're, uh, having…it, but it makes me wonder. We've never got a concrete age on you. You never came right out and said it, Brock hasn't either, but I'm not making out with him so I don't really care."

"We can change that, Ash," Brock said, licking his lips.

"Oh, gees, nightmares," the boy groaned.

"Oh, sweet dreams of yaoi," Misty sighed dreamily. "As we know, all girls who watch anime _have _to be crazy about yaoi. It's part of the stereotype. Well, that or they watch the watered down American versions. Just imagine if all those silly girls and guys who hate yaoi watched the uncensored versions of their favorite anime. They'd probably drop dead or throw up or some combination of the two. People need to learn to love yaoi and yuri more."

Ash grinned. "I _love _yuri. You want me to call up May and-"

"No," Misty said automatically. "I'm not a piece of meat. There's more to me than my body, though I think we all agree that my body is enough on its own."

The boy nodded in response, before Ash asked the question once more, and Misty sighed. She fell off the log and into the dirt, moaning now, because she honestly didn't want to answer the question. The answer was complicated, and she was still debating if she was allowed to break the WALL. The WALL was often broken in Bittersweet Romanticide's stories, so she figured it wouldn't matter here, especially since it wasn't a plot fic.

"Alright, well, let's cover the basic misconceptions. The idea that I must have waited a couple years because I have all the pokémon trained is ridiculous. The ten year old first pokémon law is _obviously _broken in Gym Leaders, because you've got Brock who has a rock type. There's no rock type starter, and you _always _keep your starter! That, or you're a heartless bastard, which I am not. You don't get starters as a Gym Leader, and probably inherit pokémon.

"The next is the idea that, going by canon, Ash is ten. Ash, starting off his journey, was _fourteen._ This was how we had several inappropriate moments, including a nice bouldershipping moment in the first episode we meet Brock. Hooray for yaoi! So, if you were going to say I was twelve in canon, then I'd be two years younger than Ash. This doesn't make any sense. I have to be older than Ash, because I constantly get away with calling him a kid, plus I'm taller, which generally symbolizes seniority. On top of that, he's even called me Kasumi-sensei before, so, regardless of the fact that this is one people try to use against pokeshipping, I'm probably older than him if he can think of me as a teacher.

"And, we reach the most common: the thought that I'm twelve in the anime. Not once, not a _single time _have I ever said how old I am, anymore than Brock. We only know I'm older than Ash from the hints above and younger than Brock thanks to the height factor again. The idea that I'm twelve comes from the _manga._ Now, as much as the manga shows how the show should really be because that's what our lovable creator Tajiri wanted-"

At the mention of the name of their creator, they all made strange hand signs and symbols signifying the glory of their god.

"-it's not the show. Anything in the manga shouldn't be carried over to the anime. Such as, in the manga, Ash isn't a dense idiot. Ash _knows _I'm pretty. Ash and I have had many awkward, adult moments without Brock turning it into a threesome for horny teenagers watching the anime. In the manga, I have boobs. Sadly, I don't get to keep them in the anime. I turn into a girl instead of a flowering woman."

"So, how _old _are you?"

She smiled. "As long as I'm older than you and younger than Brock, who the hell _cares_? I'm more concerned that people call me _Waterflower _because of an episode called _The Waterflowers of Cerulean City_. When they said waterflowers, they meant my sisters all had the names of flowers and it was a water type gym. It's got _nothing _to do with my name! It sounds so tacky! But, I can console myself that I'm always just the right age."

She sat up and laughed, looking at Ash across the campfire. "Honestly, who _cares_? I love you. Why would anything matter? The age, the height, you being dominant? I just wish people could just accept the relationship for how it would really be: I'm older, I'm taller, and because of my love of romance I'll probably always be dominant in the bedroom, though we'll probably have a constant struggle that I'll occasionally lose or even let you win?"

"Oh, that's because they want to fall into the typical stereotype of the man being the strong, smart protector and the woman being the fragile princess that needs to be saved," Ash explained brightly. "Which begs the question, why don't they just find a pair that matches it?"

"Tajiri only knows, Ash," Misty sighed. "Tajiri only knows."

**

* * *

**Moral of the story: Age doesn't matter, and height shouldn't either. People are so obsessed with this, and, when it comes down to it, _look at the genetics._ Ash _won't _be tall, because neither his mother nor his two alleged fathers (Giovanni and Oak) are frighteningly tall. Misty has _huge _sisters (because, in Japan, they like their models tall), and will probably be just as tall. Once again, the Japanese like the girls tall. Misty will always be taller, because it would be the traditional version of beauty. May and Dawn are supposedly younger, and more worldly, and made shorter to fit with other customs. However, Misty's a big girl. I envy that, because I'm Cuban short. Misty can also whip Ash's ass, and will probably end up being on top.

Yes, I realize I'm guilty of much of the above, but I'm better now. I've fixed the problem, and the only reason I don't use Brock's Japanese last name is because, to me, Slate sounds pretty cool. That's all for now.


	18. Ribbon

Ribbon

Ash's birthday was special, not because it was the day Ash was born, or because it was the day he met Pikachu or Misty. Ash's birthday was special because it was on Trainer's Day, the day when all the Kanto wannabe trainers could be shipped off to the Professor and the mothers would count their blessings that, if only for a little while, they could have a break from some of the most hyperactive children on the planet.

Trainer's Day reminded Misty a lot of January first, the day all racing creatures are born on. Whether born on the thirty first of December or the fifth of May, all racing creatures were classified as born in a year, not a day nor a month nor an hour. It was only that day, because the trouble it would be to go through and check every racing creature's exact date for the birthday was much to complicated. In a sense, that's what they did with the Trainer's as well. On the summer equinox, Trainer's Day was called, and all the racing boys and girls lined up at the lab.

Now, Ash's birthday truly was interesting, because it was a rare thing that a child managed to want to _be_ a trainer, be born _in _that month, and then have the luck for their birthday to actually fall on Trainer's Day that year (not to mention the double luck of having it the day they were born). So, now that Ash was fifteen, that special day had come around again, where his b-day fell on t-day, and the big celebration had come about.

Misty had been in a crazy rush the day before, because Ash had gotten her such a wonderful present for _her _birthday six months ago. She was sixteen and a half, he was turning fifteen, and he needed a present equal to that of a turtle. The only problem was, she didn't have a clue what to get him. His party was in an hour, and though she had been racking her brains (and the store) she didn't have a single idea! She couldn't get him an animal, it wasn't practical with him travelling all the time as well as it being a complete copy cat. Sure, she had picked out quite a few smaller gifts, but she needed something big to tie it all together!

Daisy swept the girl up, taking her to the room while mumbling under her breath, calming her down, and stroking the frantic girl's hair. Misty was ranting and raving as her big sister plopped her down in front of the vanity, brushing her hair that she had played with into a tangled mess and rushing off to sort through drawers. Daisy rummaged and tossed things on the floor, until she pulled something out with a proud, "Aha!" and raced back over. It was a blue ribbon.

"Daisy! This isn't helping!" Misty whined. "Ash isn't going to forgive me for a horrible present because I put some fancy clothes on."

Daisy held up a finger. "Alright, what did I put on you?"

"A ribbon," the younger huffed, waiting for the blonde to reach her point.

"What else do you put a ribbon on besides your head?"

Misty shrugged. "A present?" The elder grinned, and, slowly, it began to dawn on the redhead _exactly _what she meant. "Gah! Daisy! That isn't funny! I've got an hour, an _hour _until his party starts, and I factored that in with the whole fashionably late thing! I…you and your stupid ideas!"

Daisy sniggered, noting that her beloved little sister didn't take off the ribbon.


	19. Self

Self

Ash was very selfish. He always wanted to be right. He always wanted the prize for himself. He didn't like spending his hard earned cash on others, well except for Pikachu and his other pokémon, but that was another story entirely. And the same went for his mom, but those were musts. You couldn't be cheap with your pokémon if you were going to be a Pokémon Master someday, and you definitely couldn't be cheap with your mother. The thought was ridiculous! You couldn't be cheap with the woman who loved you, cared for you, raised you, and reminded you to wear fresh underwear!

No, no, it may have been Misty's birthday, and he _totally _wanted to rub it in her face that he remembered, but he didn't want to buy anything expensive. Just enough to let her know that he knew that her birthday was coming up, and that he hadn't forgotten, unlike pretty much every other birthday she had had, but he was kinda ticked at her while they were travelling because she whined (even though he later found out that most girls did when being dragged through the forest to search for things they had already figured out weren't there) and she was bossy and loud and angry and it just wasn't a good time for buying her presents. It just wasn't.

But now it was, because they were both taking a break and she was heading back to Cerulean and he could rub it in her pretty face, er, he just meant face…nothing about her was pretty.

A bit confused, Ash stopped to rest his head against something cool and smooth, what most people would recognize as a tank by the sound of running water and the heavy smell of fish in the air, but Ash merely thought of as a strange. He wasn't too concerned about it because this was the twenty third time this week he had accidentally thought of Misty as pretty. That wasn't safe, because when he started thinking that girls were pretty he turned into Brock, and _that _was not a pretty thought, that was for sure.

"Buying for yourself, or a friend?" chirped a voice.

Ash rolled his eyes to the person, a teenage male with dark brown skin, black hair and black eyes. He was cleaning out a filter and he only stopped a moment to grin at Ash before turning back to the rushing water, looking back slowly to go about his job.

"Self, I guess," Ash murmured, looking around the pet store and trying to figure out when and how exactly he had wandered into the place. "Well, for a friend, maybe, if there's nothing to pricy. It's her birthday comin' up, and I haven't remembered in a couple years so I wanted to prove that I remembered this year, and I did remember! I don't want to buy her jewelry or make-up or anything like that, because I've never seen her wear that and I don't know if she'd like it. But, I mean, all girls like shiny stuff."

"So does Riley," the clerk chuckled, looking at the parrot with a smile. "What do you like. Riley?"

"Jewels! Jewels, man! Gimme all your jewels!" the parrot cried triumphantly, proud of his trick. "Stick 'em up! Stick 'em up! Shoe sale in aisle seven!"

The boy laughed and shook his head. "His old owner watched a lot of cop shows, but we don't have a single idea where the shoe sale came from." He finished cleaning the filter and wandered over to Ash, drying his hands on his red smock. "Let me think, ah, you'll want to give her something a bit special to prove you remembered. So we're not going to get a fish. I love fish, but they're so mundane. I like to get something with flare."

Ash paused. "Flare…sorry, what's your name?"

"Yes, I said _flare_," he said with a little jazz hand kind of move. "My name's Leroy and I know a lot about girls, sir. So, first things first, how long you been dating?"

"We're not dating," Ash argued. "We're just friends. It's her sixteenth birthday and I just want to prove I remembered because she's always calling me an idiot and hitting me."

"Kinky," the teen chuckled, ignoring Ash's complaints at the word. "Oh, shush. Here's what I'm thinking: it's a big birthday, so if you get a pet, it's got to be something interesting. People have seen fish, and cats and dogs just aren't personal anymore. That's what you get for _every _occasion these days. It's so tacky. We want to get her something special, something different, and you've come to the right place because we've got some exotic stuff here!"

The younger boy smirked. "I can buy her that tarantula."

"Uh, no," Leroy winced. "I'm not a bug person and you don't buy a girl a tarantula! That's not romantic at all! And don't say you're not dating, because all girl gifts have to be a little romantic or you look like an asshole. Do you want to look like an asshole?"

"Not really."

"Good," he snorted. "Well, do you know anything she likes?"

Ash shrugged, wandering down the aisle, then suddenly stopping, eyes going wide. He wasn't planning on getting anything fancy. He should have wandered over to the exotic fish, surely an exotic, ten dollar fish would be enough, but he was suddenly transfixed by the creature behind the glass, and he raised one finger pointing to it and whispering, "she'll like _that._ I don't know too much about her, but I know she'll like _that_."

"Sir, that's a Matamata turtle. It's _five hundred _American. You up for paying that? I thought you didn't want something fancy, just something to let her know you remembered. It's pretty ugly too, are you sure you wouldn't want to get her something, I don't know, something nice? A parakeet? A frog for Pete's sake, something cute!"

"She thinks tentacruel are cute. It lives in the water. She's going to love it. She's a freak, there's no understanding it," Ash explained. Somehow…it was the ugliest thing they had, it was spiky, looked very unfriendly, and if he didn't know better he'd say it was mostly dead, every once in a while having a bursting of life to twitch its head, but…somehow…it was the best thing in the shop. She would love it.

And for the first time of his life, Ash realized what this strange, almost lightheaded feeling was.

He was thinking for someone other than him_self_.

And he was _good at it_.

* * *

Yes, you've caught me. I secretly think that all black men who work in pet stores are gay and named Leroy. Curse me. Curse me to hell. Honestly, if anyone says anything because I made him black and gay, I will be _so _ticked. He's black because that's what I saw in my head and he's gay because I typed the word flare and, uh, in my head he didn't exactly say flare like a straight man trapped on a desert island, know what I mean? And about his name, honestly, would you say anything if I named a white boy Chad? No! See, if you thought I was racist, _you're _actually the racist one! Ha! …I'm going to hell. Have a nice day.


	20. Tempest

Woo! Japanese names because…I wanted the last dialogue line to sound like that, heh. Uh, things you need to know (and, don't worry, I'm not a KAWAII girl, they're all just the Japanese honorifics):

Hai – yes  
Kun and chan – generic terms for people about your age you know, kun for boys, chan for girls, chan is also used in a childish sense, a belittling term. You'd call a little kid chan.  
NOT saying kun or chan – very personal, very close, rare to do  
San – terms of respect, like an adult (Mr., Mrs., doctor)  
Sensei – teacher  
Satoshi, Kasumi, Takeshi – Ash, Misty, Brock

* * *

Tempest 

They looked up and groaned as the rain began falling. Just little drops at first, but the sky above them was black with rainclouds so heavy with rain it was a wonder they didn't just fall from the sky in a big, rushing waterfall. Thankfully, the trees gave them a little cover, just enough time to grab each other's hands and dash into a cave, giggling as they looked out at the turbulent clouds. Hair was soaking wet, clothes were damp, and muddy earth had flung up and streaked their pants and legs with grime.

"Satoshi- kun," Kasumi laughed, "I think we lost Takeshi-kun."

"I think you're right," he agreed, then smirked. "But, it's not like that's a bad thing."

The redhead squealed and tackled him to the rocky floor of the cave, attacking his lips with vigor. And Satoshi, unsurprised as they had done this too many times before to count, only moaned happily and brought his arms around her waist, pulling her more firmly on top of him. She nibbled his lip gently, then plunged her tongue down into his mouth while he eagerly returned the favor. Their tongues wrestled for a long while, before she once again took the next step and began to kiss his jaw, kiss his neck and smile at the moans that made her lips tingle.

She sunk her teeth in just above his collarbone while his nails dug into the bare skin on her back, biting back a moan and sitting up quickly. She gave a slight yelp at the quick change, but quickly resumed her actions once she had adjusted.

"Wait, Kasumi-chan," he whispered breathlessly. "Takeshi-san, what if he-?"

She banished any kind of doubt with a second bite. Her fingers darted up his neck and behind his ears, pulling him a bit forward as she began to breathe in his ear. Shivers ran down his spine as she did, but the thought of Takeshi appearing hardened his will, even when…even when…

"Satoshi-kun," she whimpered lovingly. "How could you be thinking about Takeshi-kun when you're with _me_? I thought these were enough to entertain you."

He gulped as she unhooked those suspenders, the outfit had been bought again, simply enough, just a yellow t-shirt, suspenders and so delightfully short jeans. She wriggled out of her shirt then, not nearly as sexy as the jeans as she was now a little too eager to care, tossing the shirt across the room before reaching behind her and hasty fingers fumbling around the clasp. He was gasping, barely able to believe that she would be doing, well, _releasing _things that only he was supposed to see. It was a trade off. Only he got to see her stuff and only she got to see his stuff, but _Takeshi _could come by and he could see her stuff and he wasn't allowed! Not anymore…

"Kasumi-chan!"

She pouted, her eyes hinting at a strong streak of frustration. "Satoshi-_chan_," she mocked. The bright eyed girl began pushing back on his chest flattening him once again. She began to undo his vest, and he closed his eyes tight. There was nothing under the vest _now_, she had taken care of that _earlier_ and he hadn't put it back on because it wasn't supposed to _storm_ and this wasn't good at _all. _This was very, very bad.

"K-Kasumi-chan, if Takeshi-san comes and sees-"

"Takeshi-san! Takeshi-san!" Misty exclaimed teasingly. "Is that all you can think of at a time like this? Well, I promise you Satoshi-kun, if Takeshi-kun sees this, he'll probably join right in and I'll have to kick him. It's not a good time for that. We haven't even properly sexed up yet." She smiled suggestively and flattened herself against his now bare chest and gave a happy sigh that ended in a slight moan. "But we'll change that _now_, Satoshi."

She ended it there, no kun or even a teasing chan. For the first time in all their kissing spells, in all their romantic nights, not ever had she called him Satoshi.

He gulped. "You said you wanted to take it slow."

"It's been months."

"And you…you're ready?"

She took a deep breath and beamed, nodding eagerly. "Yes, Satoshi-kun. I'm completely and totally ready, I wanted to wait this time, because I wanted to make sure it was right with you, because I really like you, Satoshi-kun. I wanted this to be special and…now's the perfect time."

"In a cave?" he asked incredulously.

"Mmm-hmm."

"_Now_? We haven't even had dinner or anything!"

She pulled away, whipping off her bra and pointing. "So, what? You want to stop at _these_? From what I've noticed, you have a lot of fun with _these _and I'd figure you'd want to have fun with _that _but if you're trying to talk me out of it, even though just the other day you were asking me when I thought I'd be ready and Kasumi-chan-ing me to no end _now_, when I'm good and ready, you're trying to talk me out of it? This is a _big _leap, Satoshi-kun. You really hurt me before, when you acted like you didn't care. But I got over that and I'm offering myself to you, and you're acting like it's the most horrible thing in the world or as if it's your first time or-"

Lightning flashed outside, lighting the boy's faced before it faded and thunder rolled. Scared, embarrassed, timid was what she saw. And she smiled, throwing herself forward and hugging him tight, bare skin pressing together in a feeling they both savored.

"Oh, Satoshi-kun! That's why you're acting so strange! You've never been with a woman before, have you?"

He looked away shyly. "No, Kasumi-chan."

"That's alright," she comforted. "It's sweet. I'll teach you what to do, and we'll practice until you're good at it, if you want."

"Hai, Kasumi-chan!" He eagerly sat up, only to be shoved flat against the stone.

"_No_. This time, _I'm _doing it. I need this to be very, very good, not very, very bad. So you'll sit there, and I'll take care of it all by myself, and you can try to remember the things I do and what I tell you to do so next time you can do them without me asking and keeping it much more romantic." She kissed his lips deeply. "You just stay right where you are, and I'll take care of both of us this first time, Satoshi-chan."

He put his arms over his head and smiled widely. "Hai, Kasumi-sensei."

And neither had ever been more grateful for a storm.

**

* * *

**_There's _what I should have written for lust, huh? _That's _what you all were after. Well, surprise! Here it is! Delays are apologized for, as kittens are clingy and needy. It's not my fault. Blame Jasper, the cutest little thing in the whole world. Oh! He's just _adorable._ –sighs- He really is.


	21. Unimportant

I swear that the actual content of this story is over 500 words, and that my opinions, though obviously inserted, are not meant to offend likers of the book nor be shoved down the character's throat. It's not exactly joking, but it's not coming after anyone.

* * *

Unimportant

_From the diary of Yawa, Misty:_

Many things in this world are unimportant, I guess. I mean, the things I usually get mad at generally don't matter in the big scheme of things. The little bit of fury that I show when someone says the wrong thing, or acts just a little off, or does something that I really shouldn't be paying attention to shouldn't really get me quite as angry as it does. It's almost frustrating that I can get so furious so quickly, and getting frustrated over my temper is just another one of those unimportant things which, once again, sets off my temper.

I guess there are people who take it farther than me, especially in this crazy place. It tends to make you more wild, more animated, almost. A week ago I walked in on Natty burying something in her backyard, and the tombstone said teen literature. Then, a few days before that, she chained _Twilight _to a chair and began interrogating it, really working herself up when it didn't respond when she asked "who else was in on it? The _Clique _series? Who, dammit? Who?". And just yesterday she was stabbing a whole row of books she claimed to be horrible literature (I thought some of them were pretty good) then collapsed, as if she was actually mourning the loss of a friend. Pretty creepy.

What I mean to say is, there's just some things that don't need to be taken that far. There's some things that are unimportant that I should be smart enough to let go, but somehow, I just don't have it in me. It's all comes down to today and…I don't know. I guess I'll just write it story style. There's too much detail that I need to put in that I just can't get from summing it up. You have to read the whole thing if you want to get it.

"So, last time I asked you stuck my hand to a pole but this time…can we kiss? _Please_?" Ash danced his fingers across the back of my hand. "I think you're so pretty, and I saw you dance in your room today when you thought no one was watching. You were really pretty."

"You were watching me?" I said, narrowing my eyes. "That's kinda stalkerish. How didn't I see you? My door was closed."

"I was outside your window," he argued, smiling and continuing his finger dance.

"How? There's no tree, no pokémon you own can hover in place with you on its back, and I'm pretty sure I would have noticed you."

He chuckled. "Well, you'd think it was cool if I sparkled."

"Ha! Very funny! You boys just don't get romance!" I retaliated, glaring at him for mocking a favorite book of mine.

_

* * *

From the mind ramblings of alternate identity Baker, Natalia:_

_I don't get it. I don't! He sparkles and he's bi polar and angsty and freaky and watches her outside the window and the writing isn't even fantastic. People often hate her, but they often just want the Sparkler, they're after _him, _the imaginary one. How do they love it? How could they love it? Is it…is it possible I'm blaming the wrong creature? Is it possible that…it's not the fad's fault, not the literature, but the common teen that's destroying their own literature? That we're destroying our own future? When something the equivalent of a Mary-Sue badfic is published, and a best seller, isn't that _our _fault? Haven't _we _done the crime of supporting the bad and shunning anything that requires reading and thought? The absence of any metaphor that hasn't become so common it's merely a saying, and certainly not extended, have _we_ created it?_

_Perhaps, though they say we're not supposed to, shouldn't it be the job of the parents, the teachers, the media, the intelligent to try and force people to _think_? To go back to a time when reading wasn't just a fad, equivalent to that of slinkies, but actually required thought and interpretation and a plot that starts somewhere before 3/5 through the book? To actually sit down and write, use words that make sense in the content instead of raping the thesaurus and describing the surroundings and building flaws into people? To shatter the ideal? Isn't that the point of the controversial literature, the thing that won't be read, to prove that the ideal or certain goals are incorrect or, in this scenario, cannot be achieved to hopefully redefine the goals of humanity?_

…_but, even if I share this, I'm merely a sixteen year old girl. If they don't believe their parents and teachers, and people older than me have fallen prey to such a dreadful curse upon society with our ungrateful attitudes towards the arts, and rarely even considering poetry and prose an art anymore, how could anyone ever possibly believe me?_

_One voice makes a difference my Cuban butt…_

_

* * *

Continuation of the diary of Yawa, Misty:_

"Well, I'm not forcing you but…why not?" he asked tentatively, beginning to swirl his finger around the back of my hand. "I'd like to, but if you're scared or something or if...if you don't want to because you don't feel like there's any...spark?"

No spark. No spark he says and him doodling on the back of my hand is driving me nuts! I had shivered a bit at the feeling because it was nice, very nice, too nice. Honestly, it's not like I wasn't ready, or I didn't want to. It's just…I've got this control issue. This is a huge thing, it's not OCD, at least, I don't think it is. It shouldn't be. I mean, there's nothing wrong when I want everything done my way in a certain order in a certain timeframe in a certain place and I want everyone to be happy that I'm in control because they should be because I'm doing it right, you know what I mean?

I took a deep breath and blurted. "Ash I…Ash, it's just that I want everything to be perfect!"

His nose wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

"Well, we have to go on a date on a certain date at a certain time, something easy to remember so you can remember it in the future if we actually make it. And after that date, which has to last a certain time, we have to get back to the house whosever it is and-"

His hand closed over mine, and it's then that I realized exactly what was going on. We were alone. On a walkway to the beach. Alone. During sunset. Alone. With me standing, and Ash sitting, and a yellow mouse perched on his shoulder who didn't really care to the point that we might as well be…alone.

His breath smelled like the cheeseburgers we had eaten earlier, not exactly heavenly, but not unpleasant either. I do like cheeseburgers, even if they aren't my favorite food. But his eyes were nice. And the hot flare in my gut when I realized exactly what he was about to do (and I really didn't want to stop him, even though half of my brain was on red alert and warning me that this was definitely not the way I was supposed to lose my first Ketchum Kiss) and how awesome it would be if we ventured further than just a peck on the lips.

"But there's you and me," he began.

"_And all other people and I don't know why…_" I sang quietly. "_I can't take my eyes off of you._"

He smirked. "The perfect kiss already has a soundtrack. You don't need anything like that, just the fact that we're together, it's romantic, and it's right. It's the right time."

"I'm not OCD," I informed him.

"Yes you are," he sniggered.

"Shut up."

And he did. And he kissed me. And, somehow, all the little details just seemed...unimportant.

* * *

On another subject entirely, do I mention cheeseburgers that much in my stories? Really? Because I'm starting to think it's becoming more and more consistant...Now I have a feeling that someone's gonna mock me in the review for this. It's okay, I'm not above a good tease, but this is starting to freak me out. I'm I the Hamburglar reincanated?

Disclaimer: I do not own "You and Me" by Lifehouse. I also do not own the Hambuglar. (I _am _the Hambuglar, and I do not own myself, my parents do...and apparently the other half of me is owned by a fast food franchise with golden arches and a clown as its symbols.)


	22. Virgin

This oneshot could also be titled: Frick, Frick, Frick fricker frickerton fricky, I Need to Start Looking Ahead So I Stop Using Oneshots I _Definitely_ Could Have Picked Better Prompts for, Frick. Abbreviation: FFFFFFINSLASISUOIDCHPBPF. That's pronounceable.

Virgin

Oil.

Ash and Misty had quite the encounter with olive oil. It was a bright day. The sun was beaming down on the quiet country town Pallet while the two lazed about. Yes, they lazed like no one before them had lazed, barely moving like alligators along the banks, warming their cold blooded bodies and monitoring their heat by occasionally drinking from their water bottles (the teens, of course, not the alligators, that's ridiculous).

Ash took her hand, out of nowhere, and pulled her to his house. The act was simply random, no words were said from either of them, before or after. She didn't say anything as he smacked the table and dropped her hand, signaling she should sit, and then went about his business going into the bread box, then going to the pantry. Each stop gained him something new, the first bread, the second olive oil. Extra virgin olive oil.

He plopped the two on the table and continued his stroll, reaching up into the shelves and pulling out two plates. He held them up with a smile, and she smiled back no words spoke, and the silence was not defiled, but pure and sweet and virginal in every way.

It wasn't fancy olive oil, but not cheap either. It came in a big plastic jug, and the top had some plastic kind of funnel inside that guided the oil down and onto the plate in a slow, easy pour. Ash didn't rush so the air would fly in, messing with the stream and splattering oil, but displayed a kind of patience that was terribly strange for him, especially around food. When he finished, he screwed the lid back on, and set it down.

The redhead reached for the pepper, but he touched her wrist. He didn't shake his head, nor glare, but the meaning was passed between them easily enough. The oil was to be pure, untainted by naught by the bread. The oil was virgin in yet another way, though the two robbed it of that quickly. They tore into the bread, warm from the hot cottage house, and dipped it into the slightly cooler oil, taking it so quickly and with so little care that their hands and faces were soon splattered with it.

And that was when it happened.

They were out of bread, but not oil. The big tub had no concern to them, they obviously couldn't finish that, but Ash had poured too much. They couldn't simply throw it out, that was understood. So what could they do? What was there to do?

Ash picked up the plate, and touched two virgin lips to too good extra virgin olive oil.

Misty, licking her fingers, suddenly slowed in doing so. The finger she had been sucking on slid out slowly, sensually, and she felt her heartbeat race. It was illogical that this should turn her on. In all the years they had been together, not dating, but merely _together _she had never been turned on quite so much as when he put down the plate and licked his lips clean, eyes meeting hers halfway through the action, as wordless understanding glided through the silence.

His hand found hers, and so terribly out of character, so silent, so forward, he put a finger in his mouth, and slowly, meaningfully, closed his eyes and sucked it clean.

She wanted to moan, somehow, but felt it wrong. She couldn't break the silence, only curl her toes, only clench her fists, only pray her heart wouldn't explode because all this time that sexual energy had built, and it wanted to come out as a kiss, how she knew it wanted to. But the silence should not be tainted with normal words, and certainly not with anything remotely sexual. Certainly not, certainly not.

And she broke first, because she couldn't stand it. Because everything around her ganged up. The silence was virgin, the oil, the Ash, the lips, the feelings that, oh goodness, though her lips were tainted she had certainly not ever felt this. Her fingers had been pure before she walked in, no one had ever thought to do so such a strange thing, but Ash _was _strange, and his strange was good in training, and now in play as the shivers shot up her spine, and, though she had not a clue, his as well.

"I kissed someone while you were gone," she gasped suddenly, defiling the silence, pulling her hand away. "We weren't together and…it was years."

He took her hand back slowly. "Doesn't change that your hands are covered in olive oil. You're always telling me how dirty I am, so let me clean up. I'm just…cleaning up."

With that, he smiled a smile none too virgin to the ways of the world and sucked yet another finger clean. It was not some dirty sin. Mephisto did not have them in their clutches, not today. It was not an act of fate. It was not two souls connecting after years apart. It was not magical. It was not perfect. It was not better than anything they had ever experienced, not more powerful than Pikachu's thunderbolt. It was more, and it was less.

It was instinct, pure and simple. It was two creatures, two mammals with beating hearts and hair and stomachs and brains and cells and DNA and all the things in between. It was two _animals_, two legged, mostly hairless, bizarre creatures who found themselves caught up in nature's deadly grip, the lust and desire for another that not one scientist can understand, not one preacher can truly explain, but something so basic every sexual based lifeform knows what to do.

Innocence, purity, untainted. _What _do creatures do? When two opposite genders collide, would one expect them to fight? Would one expect them to claim territory? If one thinks logically, what would two innocent, untainted by society creatures do without instruction or teaching, but by force of wild instinct?

As they cleaned their hands, lips, mouths, tongues and necks from olive oil, the idea strikes:

Not a thing is born virgin.

**

* * *

**…Holy cheese and crackers. This is my favorite piece. Ever. Like, ever ever. I don't know if you like it or think I'm a nutter but this started out as a way to ignore my cat so it could get used to the crate and I actually liked this. Better than anything I've ever done! Ever! …this is totally backed up on my hardrive and the whole thing it mine. I'll edit it, like, a million times. I don't care. This is mine. First time I've felt accomplished. Goin' in a scrap book! I want to put the closing half on my profile!

So…what did you think?


	23. Window

Window

She was in a mood in a chair by the window. Ash liked it when she was in a mood. Her eyes were big, distant and dreamy as she stared out into the snow. She was probably plotting his demise, but strangely enough, he couldn't bring himself to care. Her face looked much more colored than usual next to the icy white snow, the comparison showing off the touch of rose color in her cheeks, the slight tan developed over traveling during the long summer months. And her lips, those red beauties, pouted. They were plump from her constant biting on them, top and bottom, as she held her tongue during someone else's argument that day. They were ruby red from punch. She had homemade make up on without a single idea.

They were in a circle, playing a game (all but her, of course, who stared out the window) that made little to no sense. It had started with a song, something claiming that the man would like to be a girl's underwear or something like that, and it set off the conversation of what they would want to be, if they could be anything in the world. Ash had started off paying attention, but, somehow, as they settled and the chat became more relaxed his mind wandered away, wandered to the blue-green eyes beauty and her perfect, pouted lips.

Her hand came up and spread over the glass, fingers extended wide, then drumming those long, slender digits against the icy glass. It was when her forehead hit it that the zap suddenly went through him, when Ash's brain decided that _now _would be a wonderful time to play its own game. Now was the time for Ash to imagine those movements were on him, that those fingers weren't on glass, but his skin, that her forehead rested against his, face inches away as their breath mingled, as they gently closed the gap, closer and closer and…she was actually leaning towards the window. But she wouldn't! She couldn't!

She didn't. Her lips didn't touch the window. Her hand slid up and between her and the window, between his imaginary self, and her precious lips rested on the back of her hand. It wasn't _fair._ She had just ruined his fantasy! He wanted to be kissed! Oh, he could imagine how her lips would be on his. Foreign, strange, interesting, soft and cool and then that wonderful flash of heat and excitement. That's what she was waiting for and she had gone and ruined it!

"Ash?" May asked again, poking his side and drawing him back to the conversation. "I know you're angry, but there's no point in glaring at her back all night. Both of you were wrong, you don't have to pout. You should just move on and get over it."

"What?" He blinked. "Oh. Oh right, angry. I was thinking about something."

"Well, Ash, it's your turn. If you could be anything, what would you want to be and why?"

"Because I could show everyone the things they were missing," Ash said confidently, "I'd be a window."


	24. Xanadu

What you need to know:

Xanadu is a movie.  
Sonny is the main character.  
The premise is that he is inspired by a muse, named Kira.

Xanadu

Ash's eyes widened. "No. No way in hell."

"Oh, come on, Ash! It's my turn to pick a movie and I sat through one of your freaky movies and it had bugs in it! Bugs! And did I say anything? No! I politely ran out of the room and waited for the bugs to go away and then I came back to watch it. This isn't scary. It's just a nice movie we can sit and watch together and act like a real couple and if we can't get through a simple date night how are we ever going to make it as a couple Ash Ketchum? We can't! We have to watch this movie for us!"

"How come every time _you _want to do something, it holds our relationship in the balance, but whenever I want to do something, it's stupid?" Ash challenged. "I mean, I wanted to go to the contest finals but you refused! And I figured you'd like that, because it's pokémon looking pretty, two of your favorite things."

She pouted, crossing her arms. "You know how I feel about girls who are prettier than me. And I bet them playing with their pokémon and getting all sweaty training turns you on. You'll be paying attention to them and you won't care about me and that's not a date night Ash Ketchum, that's you and your male hormones getting the best of you while I have to sit and cry because you don't love me anymore! You don't!"

"You're the only one who turns me on, 'specially when you're all soaking wet and training," he grinned, falling onto the couch. He stretched out his arms, and she smiled, bounding to him and nuzzling into his neck with a happy chirp. "You're such a jealous dork. And you can kiss me all you want, but we're not watching Xanadu."

She pulled away, lowering her eyes in a seductive manner. "Well, are you sure there isn't anything I can promise to do _after _that will get you to watch the movie now without up taking our pants off? You can have anything you want as a treat." She traced her fingers along his chest. "I know exactly what you like."

"Cheeseburgers at my favorite place down the street?" Ash asked, eyes going wide with joy. She nodded, and he laughed, sweeping her up closely and the two began a rabid make out, lips mashing together, tongues dancing and the two moaning happily on the couch. Let alone that Pikachu was fighting off a dry heave and wondering where she could possibly hide that she wouldn't hear…the noises.

Finally, Misty pulled away with a laugh and wiped the hair out of her face. "So we get to watch Xanadu, babe?"

"Babe," he grinned. "I like the sound of that. Babe. Ask me again, and say babe."

She giggled. "_Babe_, can we watch Xanadu?"

"And get big, giant, dripping with grease and mayonnaise and ketchup and mustard and all the wonderful things that make life worthwhile cheeseburger once we finish?"

"Well, of course," she said. "What else would we do?"

Ash thought for a moment. "I don't know. You looked a little seductive, so you could have been implying sex or something."

"Sex?" she snorted. "Only you would think of something as ridiculous as that. Sonny, babe, I've warned you away from some pretty crazy things, but the one thing I'm definitely not doing is inspiring, not a thing, sex or otherwise! I'm no Kira."

She hit play and leaned back, resting on him as his arm came around, holding her close for a nice couple's night. She was so strong, both physically and emotionally, but she felt so small. Maybe because they were built to fit, her curves were made to fit on his, they were built to be this close, to be held tight. He brushed her hair out of her face as the opening credits for Xanadu rolled, and wonder how, _how _she couldn't think she wasn't his muse.


	25. Yield

Yield

He knew where to find her, there was nowhere else she would go when she was this wild. She had stormed away in a fury, screaming and ranting and raving and not a single thing he nor anyone else could do would get her to settle down, to talk to the doctor. No, quite the opposite. Instead, she ran fast and far away, head down as she plunged off into the night. He let her run, despite his friend's argument. She needed to blow off steam; he would let her. He went after her not an hour later, and found her in the first place he looked.

The batting cages. There she was. The redhead had the red helmet on, baseball bat swinging loosely as she waited for the next ball to come, relaxing her muscles. The ball, the fastest alley, shot down and she pounded it hard, sending it shooting across and slamming hard into the back wall. Then, back to her shoulder, swinging it into the air before repeating the process. How long she had been going at it, Ash didn't know. But when her hands shifted, he saw thick blisters, heard the tiring grunts with each swing, the lingering wince of sore muscles still heaving with every ounce of strength they had.

"Misty," he whispered quietly.

"Two more," she snapped back.

He waited, two more balls flew, each hit perfectly, each flying back to the back wall with a painful swing of the back. And he watched her, mindlessly go to the side and rummage through her pockets, wildly trying to find coins. She moaned when she couldn't find once, searching more and more frantically. When she finally found a corner, broken, pus oozing and bloody hands fumbled at the coin slot to invite more balls down the alley, more pain through her arms and hands.

"Misty," he said again. "This won't do a thing. I loved him too, not like you but…I know how you feel. Remember how I was when she died? But you can't change it. Things happen. Horrible, horrible things happen but you have to move on. You can't get stuck on these little things or else you'll live off nothing but them. You don't move on, you don't grow. You're stuck forever, and who wants to be stuck in puberty for the rest of their life?"

She fumbled, madly, and she whispered, "Ash, I don't have any more _coins._ I mean, I want to keep doing this. I can't stop doing this. I've been coming here for years and I can't just stop now, but I can't keep going because there aren't anymore _coins_. Give me a quarter, Ash, please, just give me a quarter."

"I can't do that, Mist. I can't let you hurt yourself, and I can't bring him back. This doesn't help. It's time to go home."

"No!" she shouted, pounding at the chain link fence. "I won't! I fucking won't! You can't make me, Ash. I'm going to stay here as long as I want, and I'll deal with it however I want. I can't go! I'm supposed to be here! I'm supposed to have coins and I'm supposed to hit these until I'm done! I'm not done yet! I'm not _done_!"

He walked inside and hugged her. She thrashed, not trying to get away from him, but the memory, the thoughts, the pain. Then she clutched at him, grabbed at his shirt and buried her head in his shoulder, beginning to choke on her breath as her throat swelled tight. And he hugged her back, he hugged her as tight as she had a couple years ago, when _she _died. It was warm. It was nice. But it wasn't enough to stop it.

The tears fell, despite the stop signs she had put up, the pain sunk in. The pain stuck and twisted and screamed from inside her stomach, and she collapsed under it, yielded to it.

"I can't believe I'm this heartsick over a dumb duck," she whispered.

"I know," he murmured. "That's why we're here. When the pokémon leave, we still have each other. And maybe, if we're lucky, we'll see them again someday. We just have to hope Arceus allows us to pass. Do you think you can wait?"

"Arceus shouldn't have took him. I let him go. I gave him over. They were pushing and I couldn't do a thing, I just sat down and let it happen! I just fucking yielding to it all and…" She began to cry again. "You only cried for a week. I think I'm going to cry a lot longer."

"No," he whispered. "It feels like it now, but you'll get sick of it soon. You'll get sick of feeling sorry and sobbing all the time. It just takes me a little longer since I'm so damn stubborn."

She gave a little choked laugh at that.

"See? You'll be over it by the end of the day."

"It can't stop hurting by-"

"No, it won't. Over it was a bad choice of words. It never will stop hurting, Mist, and anyone who says otherwise is a dirty liar, but, eventually, you can't lay down anymore. No matter how strong death is, life's an even stronger force." He hugged her closer. "No matter how easy you thought it was to yield to the tears, it's even easier to embrace the laughter."

"That a promise, you sap?"

He smiled. "It's a promise."


	26. Zenith

_What you need to know:_

_Zenith: the highest point or state, by dictionary dot com._

Zenith

She giggled, he giggled, darkness enveloping the two of them. Each was tangled in the sheets, each helpless in their laughter at the wild night they had. Ash had been at his party, Misty at hers, and each had snuck away, up to the attic of the small farmhouse in Oak's reserve, and set up sleep bags. It was there that they proceeded to breed like wild bunnies, fast and furious and wild and so many times that even the bunnies compared to in this metaphor had stopped to gape at the two.

Why was this so remarkable? Well, at fifty, one does not expect wild, breeding like rabbit kind of nights. Maybe once, but that's generally reproductive sex or sex because, well, it's just something grown ups do but all children know that their parents do enjoy it. They did it to make a baby. That's it. Their father never did anything dirty to their mother. Ever. Banish such wicked thoughts from thine heads before you cry.

More remarkable than their above bunny breeding status was their marital status, about to be changed. No, not through divorce, but the fifty year olds were about to be married. After all the long years of dating, of loving, of drinking and dancing and adventures and romance, the two were ready to settle in each other's arms. Granted, they might as well had been married for the past thirty some years, but details were to be ignored.

"Ash," she murmured quietly. "Do you want a baby?"

"…Crap," he muttered, hand wandering to her stomach. "When did it happen?"

"No, you dolt. I mean, do you want to adopt one. I don't want to be sixty eight by the time the kid is grown. I didn't want to have one, and I'm glad we never did, I just…what if we adopted a baby? A teenager, because teens have parents this age and we could…we could take care of the poor thing. No one ever adopts teens, but it'd be a nice thing to do. You'd get a little trainer, maybe. We could find one that likes training and he could be your legacy."

"What brought this up?" he responded.

"Well, we're getting hitched tomorrow. Shouldn't we talk about stuff like this? This is the end of our single, swinging lives and the start of boring Ash and Misty. Ash and Misty that don't have a traveling gym but are stationary in Cerulean training nieces to take care of water pokémon and living boring, boring lives. Ugh, marriage _sucks_."

"We're not going to suddenly change," he chuckled. "It's just a piece of paper. We never got around to it. Trust me, we've been married since we first said I love you."

"Which, strangely enough, was after the first time we slept together," she remarked. "But what do you think about adopting?"

"I think," Ash drawled, drawing her in, "that we are in the best part of our lives. We can do whatever the hell we want. We can adopted, we can have one, we can adopt and work on making one. We'll get to it. The most important thing to remember is that I love you, you love me, and we're getting married tomorrow. This is the best part of our lives, you know that. This is the highest of highs, perfection in motion."

"No more Shakespeare, Ketchum," she teased, nuzzling into his neck. "Ash, there's olive oil in my bag."

He chuckled, remembering the day, and snatched up the bag, and they relished in this singular moment, this night, the zenith of their relationship.

* * *

And that's the end, lovely readers, A to Z. A little alphabet book of AAML. I hope you enjoyed it!

Hugs and Love,  
Natty


End file.
